


The Sweetheart's Dance

by whisper_norbury



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bagginshield Fluffy February, Barduil - Freeform, Contest, Dancing, F/M, Feet, Figrid - Freeform, Fígrid February, M/M, No Dialogue, Party, Seven Years Later, Valentine's Day, bagginshield, bagginshieldfluffyfeb, dance, fluffy february, happier days, kiliel - Freeform, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6005523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisper_norbury/pseuds/whisper_norbury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Dale of old, Men used to celebrate the mid-February holiday of Sweetheart's Day with a dancing competition; and seven years after the refounding of the city, the tradition is being revived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweetheart's Dance

It was just a friendly competition, really—a dancing contest to honor  _Sweetheart's Day_ , a mid-February holiday that had died with Dale when the Dragon had come. Now, though, seven years after the Mountain had been reclaimed and the city of Men had been re-founded, it seemed an excellent time to revive the old tradition.

For the purpose of the celebration, the ceiling of the Grand Pavilion in Dale was hung with hundreds of Ereborian crystals and gems that sparkled in the light from the large central fireplace. For the observers of the competition, there were tables placed all around the space; hung with flower garland woven by Elves, topped with flickering candles carved by Men, and set with the finest silver plates etched by Dwarves. Food and drink had been shipped in from such far-flung places as Dunland, Rhûn, and Rivendell; and there was a large supply of the finest pipe-weed that the Shire could offer.

Off to the south end of the pavilion there was a raised platform where the band would play; though, in fact, there were _three_  bands—one from each of the kingdoms in the region. They would each play for an hour, then the dancers would be allowed a five minute break while the next band took the stage. Because, while it was a dancing competition, it was one of endurance rather than style; and the last couple standing would be declared be the winners. 

And although there was to follow every year after such a contest for _all_ the peoples of the region to take part in, for this first year the competing teams were to number only four: the royal couples of Erebor, Dale, and Mirkwood. Most of them had accepted the challenge with light hearts and little reluctance; though in Thranduil's case, it had only been accepted after Bard's repeated assurance that it would be a good time for all, and a wonderful opportunity for their peoples to come together for some purpose other than official functions.

So, on the morning of Sweetheart's Day the pavilion filled with revelers, musicians, cooks, and servers; as well as a number of guards, whose job was likely to grow as time wore on, and the wine continued to flow. The four competing couples also arrived early on, all with various levels of enthusiasm—Thranduil the least of all, of course—and after eating a hearty breakfast, they took to the center of the room, then the first band struck up the music. The opening song was a jaunty tune from the Men's Laketown days; and so the first dance was a merry one that many of the residents of Dale knew well, and most of them happily stomped their feet along with the beat. 

Bilbo and Thorin took an immediate liking to it, and they gripped one another's hands enthusiastically, laughing as they spun around the floor; though once or twice, Thorin stepped on the Hobbit's bare toes, then apologized with much fretting. Fíli and Sigrid also seemed to greatly enjoy the song, and as they went along, twisting in tight circles, the Woman did her best to teach her husband the lyrics. Tauriel and Kíli had a bit of fun with this first leg of the dance, as well; but though they were certainly dancing, they were doing more speaking to one another than paying attention to the music. 

Of all the couples, however, it was Bard and Thranduil that seemed the least invested in the song—though Bard was certainly a bit more interested than the Elf, and he repeatedly had to remind Thranduil that it was not considered _dancing_ unless there was actual _movement_ involved.

The next song was slower; and when it began the mood changed in a heartbeat. The dancing couples pressed close to one another and swayed along with the easy waves of music that flowed through the pavilion; while several couples, both old and young, in the observing crowd took this chance to kiss and whisper and giggle, and some stepped out of the room for what was certainly happy pursuits.

Unfortunately, Thorin had a bit of a hard time with _this_  dance, as well, as his toes kept colliding with Bilbo's because they were holding one another so tightly—and many times the Hobbit had gone hopping back, clutching at his feet. Fíli and Sigrid were taking their own time and swaying slowly; and oddly, at this point she was already looking a bit tired, and she rested her cheek on Fíli's head as they barely shuffled over the smooth tiled floor. Kíli and Tauriel were still talking with one another, for the most part; though once in a while the Dwarf would rest his head on her chest, then she would playfully cuff him on the arm and he would lift his head away again and shrug sheepishly.

Thranduil, even, seemed to be pleased with this part of the dance, and he placed his hand on Bard's shoulder, while Bard wrapped his own arm around Thranduil's waist, and the two of them began to move gracefully around the room—saying barely a word, but staring deeply into one another's eyes.

So it went on, song after song, band after band, hour after hour. The fast music was greeted with joy by some, while the slower tunes were greatly enjoyed by others. And as the sun began to sink close to he horizon, the Dwarven band made way for the Elven musicians—and the dancers sat down for a break.

Of them all, Tauriel and Thranduil were, of course, the least tired—not tired at all, in fact, and they looked as if they had not exerted more effort than they would have if they'd simply walked across the room. Bard, on the other hand, was certainly not so sprightly as his partner, and he laid his head on one of the stone tables as Thranduil gently rubbed his back. Fíli, Kíli, and Thorin were doing fairly well, as the toughness of their kind applied to pleasurable pursuits as well as it did to battle and work. Bilbo, meanwhile, was a bit more tired than the Dwarves, though he was not ready to quit just yet; and indeed it was his feet that were causing him the most trouble—and that was mostly due to Thorin's boots.

Sigrid was the most worn-down of them all—more so, even, than her father, although she did not have the disadvantage of age. But though Fíli had asked time and again if they might step out and quit the contest, she had refused each time. Now, however, she did not seem like she could go on at all; and this time when Fíli kneeled down and asked her if they might stop, she nodded and leaned close, whispering something to him. His eyes widened, then a smile crossed his face and he quickly stood, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight—then placed a hand on her belly as he gently pressed his lips to hers.

And so, the first couple to leave the dance did so happily, arm-in-arm; and as the others watched them go, the next song began and they had to take to the floor once more. This time, most did so while talking excitedly, as it was not now difficult to figure out what had been making Sigrid so tired, nor what news she had given Fíli that had made him so happy. Ultimately, though, the chatting died down; and as the evening wore on, the revelers in the crowd began to either drop off to sleep where they sat, or excused themselves to their own homes—thinking to come back in the morning, and go on with the celebration.

Some time late into the evening, when there was a slow and lovely Elven song being played and the remaining three couples were again holding one another tight, Tauriel began to sing along with the music. Kíli seemed fascinated, and quite drawn in by it; and though she did her best to teach him the words, he could not quite get them right. Still, as he was trying, they swayed closer and closer to the door of the pavilion; until, at last, they slipped out into the darkness beyond. Leaving the space disqualified them, but they did not seem to mind at all; as they were later found outside, sitting on a low garden wall and looking up into the starlit sky as the Elf still tried to teach him the words of the song he found so enchanting.

Two couples were left, then—four dancers, all of different races, and in far different states of tiredness.

By midnight, Thorin had long-since removed his boots, so to spare Bilbo's tender toes any more trauma; though in doing so, it seemed that his own feet had begun to ache in short time. He said nothing about it, despite the fact that he was limping a bit in his steps; and several times he stumbled, even in the midst of the slowest dances.

Thranduil was, by this point, very nearly holding Bard up; though the Man was still awake, and still moving on his own, so they were still in the contest. In fact, after the first two couples had left, Thranduil seemed to have gained some measure of resolve, and all who remained in observation were in general agreement that he was not going to let Thorin win, if he could help it at all.

Thorin, for his part, appeared to be of the same mind, in that he did not want the Elf beating him in _anything_ , really. But as the night went on, and a quick song sank into a slow one, Bilbo seemed to begin melting in his arms. At length, the Hobbit let out a little snore; and though Thorin would clearly rather have kept going, he simply smiled softly and swept Bilbo off his feet, bearing him out of the pavilion and into the night.

In the end, then, it was Thranduil and Bard who won the contest—but when the Elf said as much to his partner, the Man requested that they at least finish this one dance. And so they did, and when the last song faded into silence, Bard smiled and sank into the Elvenking's arms, whispering that he could not wait until the next Sweetheart's Day; though he hoped, at least, that Thranduil would grant him another dance long before then.

**Author's Note:**

> I woke on Valentine's Day morning with the song "Sweetheart's Dance" by Pam Tillis playing in my mind; and since it refused to let me be, this was the result :)


End file.
